Art Gallery of Greater Victoria
September 27, 2014
Like Caesar's Gaul, Beethoven's musical career is divided, by musicologists, into three parts: early, middle and late. Conveniently, his string quartets match this tripartite division rather neatly: the six opus 18 quartets are early and still inhabit (indeed, were composed in) the eighteenth century; the three "Razumovsky" quartets are echt middle-period; as for the late quartets, how many today can truthfully claim to have fully come to grips with them?
There is only one - actually two - problem with this neat scheme: the two quartets Opp.74 and 95 chronologically count as middle period, but stylistically they fall in between the middle and late stools. Moreover, and somehow the very contrariness of this seems typically Beethoven, while these quartets are perhaps the least frequently performed of the sixteen, they also happen to be the only two with nicknames, even if only one of them (Op.95, "Il Serioso") was chosen by the composer.
How gratifying, then, that the Emily Carr Quartet should have chosen Op.74, the "Harp" quartet (the title was chosen by Beethoven's publisher), for their Music: Inside Out series at the Art Gallery of Greater Victoria. It may not be easily classified, but it is as authentically Beethovenian as any of the others.
Host Timothy Vernon's introduction included an extract from Louis de Vienny's fascinating description of his encounter with the composer in 1809, the year of the quartet, in which, inter alia, he referred to "this inexplicable old man" - Beethoven was in his thirty-ninth year. Vernon also took us briefly through the quartet, with the Emily Carrs playing appropriate illustrative extracts.
The actual performance was everything we have come to expect from this group: superb ensemble, marvellous tone production, understated virtuosity and considerable insight.
The room at the gallery was lively, without being over-bright, so that, even seated in the last row, as I was, the music was immediate and intimate.
The opening movement may, as Vernon suggested, possess great serenity, but it is far from being bland, and I was particularly taken with the development section, where the inner parts - Cory Balzer's violin and Mieka Michaux's viola - propelled the music with their sheer momentum.
The slow movement taken, like the rest of the music, at a perfectly-chosen tempo, was sheer poetry, its concentration and dynamic control exemplary.
The presto third movement was imbued with tremendous energy and the furious counterpoint of its trio was dazzling. The theme-and-variation finale was exquisitely judged, its disarming apparent simplicity the perfect culmination of all that had gone before.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record (whatever that is), the Emily Carr Quartet continue to sound better each time I hear them.